Good things do happen

So I have this friend, Erik, also known as Randal, and more or less we are complete opposites. Sometimes I think about his rationales behind his thoughts as I do the opposite and wonder why we think so differently. 

We took sculpture together last quarter, we were partners for a project and took a trip to get supplies and to the museum. So our polar opposite approaches quickly surfaced. (Oh and thanks Erik I wouldn't have passed the class without you) but to get back to the story and why my last intense back-dripping experience got me thinking about him -- in time of distress. Let me explain, so we joke about how I do not lock my car. I don't lock my car because I trust people and I wouldn't want someone to do that to me and I would never do that to anyone so why would someone do that to me? And if they do such a terrible thing they will feel guilty.

Plus my car is a Jeep Wrangler so anyone with a brain can break in if they want, just unzip my windows. And I don't keep anything valuable in my car anyway. (It's been broken in before). Erik on the other hand thinks I'm a nut case and that I should lock the doors because that is the normal thing to do.

Anyway, so he came to my mind this morning. I had been waiting at the DIA airport for almost seven hours before we took off to the east coast. I was already exhausted from plane changes and from my crazy story before this one (you can catch it in my previous blog). I was knocked out the whole ride... A good three hours of sleep. 

We arrive to JFK airport and there isn't much time to spare. I am the third to last row to exit and I need to get my bag from baggage claim, take the shuttle bus to another terminal, check in, go through security, and get to my gate. It was 5:30 AM when we landed, boarding was at 7:20AM so I think I will be okay. But I still would like to get to the gate. 

My mother, to no surprise, is awake and texting me about my flight so I have my phone out. When I arrive at baggage claim I'm too tired to look for directions and simply ask the information desk lady what terminal is Virgin Atlantic. She tells me and I ask her to repeat it, her response, "dang you must be tired. Terminal four." I nod my head, "terminal four, level three." She smiles. She might have got to my head because I then thought I was more fatigued than I truly was. 

I sit down next to this young guy but I don't make eye contact because I'm exhausted. I look down at my phone and respond to my mother, "okay!" I set my phone down. Before I know it my bag is coming out and I grab my 36 lb. backpack and put it on my back and put my little backpack around my front with my purse draped over my neck.

I am sweating, I am not thinking clearly.

I walk a great distance until I finally get to the train, there is no air conditioning and sweat starts to drip down my face. I take a few breaths and get on the train to terminal four. I look like a lost puppy as I wander the floor while the New Yorkers hustle to their destinations but I finally find Virgin Atlantic. As I'm waiting in line I notice my phone is no where to be found. I check my purse and small backpack, I don't feel it. 

I start sweating profusely. 

I get to the counter and check in, it's 6:30 AM. I frantically explain like a child that I must have left my phone at baggage claim, possibly in the restroom. 

He calls my phone, 
no vibration, 
no answer. 

F me. He won't let me check in my bag or give me my ticket until I come back from baggage claim to find my phone. I plead with him that'll I'll only be 15 minutes, he doesn't believe me. He says he's doing it so I can be escorted to my gate. I nod my head and start to jog. I do not care how much of an idiot I must look like. (But I'm happy I'm still in the states bc I'm not getting the dirty looks of being an American foreigner). 

The entrance to the train is farther than I recall and I see the train is about to depart (they come every five minutes) ... damn right I freakin bolted down the escalator stairs, darted passed the man at the bottom of the escalator, and squeezed in the doors to literally just make the train. 

That was incredible, a slight grin comes to my face.. (Thinking to myself "nice we sparred five minutes") To my surprise not many people are riding the train and that made me more comfortable since I was breathing hard and sweating like a mad woman.. Probably because I was.
I immediately get off the train and realize how long the hallways are and remember starring at the "100 slopes to ski down the 100 lakes to see in the Adirondacks" (where I used to vacation as a kid in the summer) and now I am mad at myself for even sparring those few seconds to read the stupid advertisements. I start yelling at myself imagining that if I was with someone and how awful it would have been if I was not traveling alone. Ugh. How idiotic of me. I continue to tell myself there are good people there is good karma it may still be there. But where? In the bathroom? On the chair? Did someone swipe it from me? As soon as I arrive I think back to what restroom I went to and I jog and go to the stall.. Nothing. My stomach is punched by my inner madness. I think maybe it wasn't this restroom I frantically ask the maid if she saw a phone, no help. I run into the other bathroom and it looks nothing like the one I used so I run out. I glance around and see nothing.
I start to think Erik may be right that we can't trust everyone to treat us as we would treat them. But I can't loose hope yet. I go to the lady who told me what terminal to go to and I asked her if she saw a phone. She told me to go baggage claim services and to hurry. I jog and wait impatiently in line and go up to a lady and ask her if she saw a lost phone. I am sweating and my face is stone cold white, she knows I am frazzled. It's freakin 6:40 AM. She asks what color. I say blue blue! She speaks to another lady who points her in a direction of a box.. There it is! My phone! I bet it was that guy who sat next to me.. She said I left it on a chair and someone brought it in. (I told her he must be an angel.) 


The rest of the story is history I walked so fast my calves hurt, I make it back to the guy in 17 minutes... He was impressed and I'm thinking to myself "yeah I told you I could do it". I go through security and I get stopped because my T-shirt is wet... Yes wet. The lady goes "oh you're just soaked" and I said "yes dripping of sweat". She lets me go. I make it to my gate, I make it to that oh so desired JFK flight en route to India. First stop, London. Where I am right now. Next stop New Delhi. 

My point: to all those like my dear friend Erik, there still are good people and if we try to be one of them they will be evermore present in our lives! I have my phone I'm safe and I'm beyond grateful. Let the crazy adventures continue! 

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